


It's a Beautiful Day, Don't Let It Get Away

by fitofpique



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-20
Updated: 2005-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitofpique/pseuds/fitofpique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think maybe you did get too much sun," Dom says. "You seem to have come over a bit queer." </p><p><i>Oh Dom,</i> Billy thinks, gulping desperately at his beer again to prevent himself from blurting out something mortifying, <i>you don't know the half of it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Beautiful Day, Don't Let It Get Away

"Help me get this up, would you?" 

Billy can't see Dom, but he can hear him snickering. 

"Why I'd be more than happy to help you get it up, Bill. What would you like me to do?"

Billy wrestles the patio umbrella upright and fumbles with the locking mechanism. _You don't have to do a thing, you bloody prick tease,_ he fumes silently. "For chrissakes, Dom, would you get your smart arse over here and grab hold of this so I can stick the thing in?"

Dom ducks under the umbrella and smirks at Billy. "Has anyone ever told you you're fucking depraved, man?"

Billy just scowls. He's sweating and not feeling terribly steady on his feet, thanks to a long morning of surfing and a half-dozen beers, and the umbrella seems improbably heavy. "Fuck you, Dom."

"I thought that was what you were getting at. Would it kill you to ask a bit more nicely?" Dom asks, mock-wounded.

Billy huffs out a frustrated breath. If it were as simple as that, he'd beg as pretty as you please. And then he'd have Dom bent over the patio table so fast his head would spin. But this is real life and not one of his overheated gay porn fantasies. More's the pity. 

He really can't be arsed to think up a clever comeback, and he's dying to get into the shade and have another drink, so he asks, "Have you got it then, Dom?" and lets go.

The umbrella hits Billy's head with an hollow thunk. _Fuck!_ It bloody hurts. His ears are ringing and his eyes tear up as he staggers back and collapses into his deck chair. He runs his fingers over the tender spot his skull, cursing a blue streak under his breath.

Dom looks frantic, his face suddenly pale under his tan, and his eyes are wild as he paces back in forth in front of Billy's chair. "Bill! Christ mate, I'm so sorry. My hands were slippy ... non-greasy suncream my arse! Are you all right?" 

"Yes," Billy hisses through clenched teeth, "fine in a minute."

Dom disappears through the sliding glass doors and returns seconds later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, which he places gingerly on Billy's head. He grabs the umbrella from where it's dangling precariously over the side of the table and lifts it up, his bicep bulging enticingly, and pops in the pin to lock it in place. 

Billy sighs and rolls his eyes. Fecking show off.

Dom angles the umbrella to make sure Billy's out of the sun. He fusses with the ice pack for a few seconds before opening another beer and handing the dripping bottle over.

"Do you think it's a concussion, Bills? Will I take you to Casualty?" Dom looks positively sick with guilt, wringing his hands and shifting nervously from foot to foot. 

Billy can't stand to see the poor bastard suffer. When did he get so bloody soft? He leans over and grabs the arm of Dom's chair and pulls it into the shade, alongside his own. "It was just a knock on the head, Dom. I'm not so fragile as all that. I'll live to see another day."

Dom looks skeptical.

Billy sighs, exasperated. "I'm fine, you big girl. Stop fretting and sit down. You're making me dizzy."

Dom shoots him a grateful look and collapses into his chair. He grabs another beer from the cooler, twists the top off, and raises it to his lips. Billy stares at the line of Dom's throat as he swallows. And swallows. And swallows again. His train of thought goes from zero to filthy in less than 60 seconds.

Billy has to force himself to look away and take a long pull at his beer. Maybe he's a wee bit more pissed than he'd thought. He's usually quite good at pushing these sorts of thoughts about Dom to the back of his mind. God knows he's had more than enough practice. He leans back in his deck chair and tries to think about something else. Anything else.

* * *

After some quality time with the ice pack, Billy's head is pleasantly numb. He stares out at the beach and tries to let the rhythmic shush of the waves against the shore relax him the way it usually does. It doesn't work. The sun's shimmering over the sand, the ocean's glittering like cut glass, and it's breathtakingly beautifully. But all Billy can think about is the man sitting next to him, with his gleaming skin and streaky blond hair and lean muscles. Dom is like some kind of golden god. Without even realizing it, Billy's turned to stare at him. He's lost in thought, lewd musings on Dom's powerful looking thighs, when Dom reaches out and nudges him in the foot with his toes. And he even has lovely toes, for shit's sake. 

"What's that, Bills?" 

Billy blinks. "What's what?" he asks.

"You were mumbling. What's beautiful?"

Panic trickles down Billy's spine like ice water. What the hell? Maybe he is concussed after all. Or else the knock on the head on top of too much sun and beer has totally bollocksed up the filter that usually exists between his brain and his mouth. 

Dom's staring at him expectantly, so he's got to say something. But his brain isn't being very forthcoming at the moment. "It's ... em ... it's a beautiful day?" he mumbles. 

"Are you sure you're all right, Bill?" Dom's brow is furrowed and he's worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

"I'm fine. I just ... I think I got a bit too much sun out there," Billy replies in an almost normal tone of voice. He celebrates by taking a long pull at his beer. 

Dom still looks worried. He leans over, resting one hand on Billy's knee to steady himself, and stares deeply into Billy's eyes for a long moment. His hot breath tickles against Billy's lips, and Billy can't stop himself from shivering and looking away. 

Dom straightens, moves away. "I think maybe you did get too much sun," he says. "You seem to have come over a bit queer." 

_Oh Dom,_ Billy thinks, gulping desperately at his beer again to prevent himself from blurting out something else mortifying, _you don't know the half of it._

Dom's mouth is pursed in an adorable moue of concern that's making it almost impossible for Billy to resist reaching out and grabbing hold of his lower lip. With his teeth. He tries to control his unruly thoughts, but Dom is being so caring. So kind. And he's so fucking irresistible sexy.

Billy closes his eyes. It's his last line of defense. 

He knows he should be reassuring Dom that all is well, that he's right as rain and all that, but he can't quite force out the words. 

"Billy, is there anything I can do? Anything that would make you feel better?"

Billy opens his eyes and tries to smile comfortingly at Dom. He'll just ask Dom to get him some paracetemol, maybe order them some takeaway, and then he'll turn in early. And tomorrow morning everything will be back to normal. 

"Billy?" Dom's voice is low and husky, sweet like honey, and really, can anyone blame Billy's subconscious mind for getting notions? Still, it's quite a shock, even to himself, when Billy blurts out, "An orgasm."

He bites his lip hard. _Mull of Kintyre! Where the bloody hell did that come from?_

Dom's mouth drops open and he gapes at Billy in complete silence. The seconds tick by and Billy thinks idly that he might be doing a saucy victory jig at having rendered Dom speechless, which is a rare thing indeed, if he weren't busy silently chanting his new mantra: _I'm not here. This isn't happening._

After a pause that feels like a thousand lifetimes, but is likely only seconds, Dom finally speaks. "You want _me_ to have an orgasm, Billy?"

It takes Billy a moment to process what Dom's said and an instant longer to longer to register the smile in his eyes as he looks at Billy expectantly.

Billy rubs a hand briskly over his face and then replies in his best deadpan. "Why yes, Dom. I always feel fantastic when _you_ have an orgasm."

Dom's mouth twitches, a sure sign he's trying not to laugh, and Billy breathes a sigh of relief. Of course Dom doesn't think he's serious. Today isn't the day Dom's finally going to realize that Billy isn't joking and hasn't been for ages. 

Dom grins widely at him. "What a coincidence, Billy! I feel fucking brilliant when I have an orgasm!" 

His cheeks are red from too much sun and too many drinks and his hair is standing up in wild, wheat-coloured tufts. He looks disarmingly innocent and quite alarmingly young. He looks like he needs a good shagging is what he bloody looks like. Billy says a silent prayer that he can keep himself from saying that out loud.

He smiles back at Dom. Everything is normal. He and Dom are just taking the piss out of each other, like always. So Billy slides effortlessly into his usual role – the innocent straight man – and it's easy, the way it's always easy with Dom. "You'll feel even better now you know you're doing me a favour as well."

"Who knew I was such a dedicated philanthropist?" Dom asks, eyes wide, hair flopping earnestly onto his forehead. 

"Well, they _do_ say that charity starts at home," Billy says. 

Dom laughs and looks down at the empty bottle in his hand, absently picking at the label. When he looks up, his expression has turned surprisingly serious. "What about on holiday, Bills?" he blurts out.

Billy's about to swallow the dregs of his beer when the significance of Dom's question hits him. His mouthful of beer sprays from his lips and into Dom's face like a gentle Scottish mist, but maltier. _Oh look, a rainbow!_ Billy thinks, and then, belatedly, _Smooth, Boyd, very smooth._

But Dom seems unfazed. He wipes his face with his sleeve and then pulls off his beery t-shirt and chucks it aside casually. Billy coughs out an apology, the wheels in his mind cranking almost audibly. Did Dom just ask him _that question?_ Billy hasn't the slightest clue, and now he can't even bloody think because Dom's shifted his chair a bit so he's directly across from Billy. He's bare-chested and flexing his pectorals, _left right left right left right,_ like a body builder. Or a hypnotist. 

A few drops of beer have gathered tantalizingly in the hollow of Dom's throat and Billy's tongue aches to lap them up.

Billy tears his eyes from Dom's chest and checks the label of his beer. Unless he's mistaken, hallucinogens are not included in the list of ingredients, which means there's a chance that Billy isn't just imagining the subtext of this conversation. That Dom is suggesting that they ... _you know._ Try new things. Together, like. It seems far too fucking good to be true, and he really hasn't a clue how things suddenly got to this point, but Billy decides it's high time he grabbed this bull by the horns.

The thought of Dom as bull and himself as bull wrangler causes a highly disturbing image to spring into Billy's mind in full technicolour. He makes a mental note to never ever wear chaps and tries to stay focused on the issue at hand. But Dom's hand is sliding over the curve of his shoulder and slowly across his chest, swiping at the droplets of beer clinging to his collarbone. His fingers are long and tan and elegant and good lord, is he tweaking his own nipples? He is! Oh bloody hell!

Billy is in so fucking much trouble. 

He's mesmerized by Dom's naughty fingers, so he's a bit slow to clue in that Dom is speaking to him. And not just with his nipples and dancing pectoral muscles.

"What's that, Dommie?" Billy asks, his voice understandably a bit strangled.

"I said, so what do you say?" Dom enunciates each word carefully and yes, Billy's being mocked, but there's something else in Dom's voice, something more serious in his eyes. And Billy wonders if there's even the slightest chance that he and Dom are on the same page here. They usually are, in almost every other way, so maybe it's not impossible. And it's not much to go on, but the idea gives Billy a surge of confidence. And an idea.

"Well," Billy drawls, grabbing the tube of aloe vera from the table beside him, "the experts _do_ agree that holidays are the best time to try new things."

He squeezes some gel into the palm of his hand and starts rubbing it onto the back of his neck where he got too much sun. 

"Do–" Dom begins, but he falls silent and his eyes go wide and round when Billy pulls his t-shirt off and start rubbing gel slowly onto his shoulders and chest, mmm-ing with pleasure as he does it. Dom shakes his head as though to clear it, and Billy feels momentarily smug. 

Dom clears his throat. "Do they say that, Billy?" 

Billy nods soberly, or as best he can manage under the circumstances. "They do." 

Dom scratches his head. "Do you think they're right?" he asks.

"I think," Billy pauses and rubs some gel onto the skin of his thighs, just under the hem of his shorts, for dramatic effect, "that they don't call them experts for nothing."

Dom nods thoughtfully and then looks intently into Billy's eyes. His jaw's got a determined set to it. "Are you sure your head is all right, Billy?" he asks after a long moment of staring.

Billy's not sure how to respond, so he goes for flip. "I believe I am in full possession of my faculties, yes, if that's a concern."

"Good. That's good, Billy." Dom's voice is low and husky and it does wicked things to Billy's insides.

Dom relaxes back in his chair and rubs at his neck. Then his hand slides over his collarbone and down, slowly, so slowly, to his bellybutton, skimming lightly over the trail of dark hair, and pausing finally at the waistband of his orange and yellow board shorts. All traces of smugness disappear as Billy stares at Dom's fingers in anticipation. He's clearly an amateur at this game, whereas Dom is very obviously a seasoned pro. Because Dom's hand doesn't stop there. No! It carries on, inching over the blinding fabric of his shorts until it's cupping – _cupping!_ – Dom's pride and joy.

Billy's own pride and joy jumps enthusiastically at the sight.

He's no idea how long he sits there staring at Dom's hand, which is moving minutely now, squeezing, almost stroking, what is fast becoming a very impressive bulge in his shorts, because there isn't enough blood left in Billy's brain to support a function as complex as thinking.

"Billy?" Dom asks breathily, shifting his deckchair closer so their knees bump.

"Yeah, Dom?" Billy whispers, never taking his eyes from Dom's fingers, which are lightly grasping his now very obvious erection.

Dom's knee rubs intimately against Billy's as he inches his thighs apart. "Do you think _I'd_ feel good if _you_ had an orgasm?" 

And oh Christ oh Jesus, this is ... this is almost too much. Billy lets out a shuddering breath and tries to think what he should do. What he should say. He doesn't want to fuck this up. He leans back in his chair and lets his mouth curve into a cheeky smirk, "I think, my Dominic, that I can absofuckinglutely guarantee it."

"Yeah?" Dom asks. 

"Yeah." Billy sounds confident, but he's most definitely not. In spite of all his fevered imaginings – and they were myriad and varied and involved and sweaty and sticky and slippery and incendiary – he never dreamed this would actually happen, and he's a bit bloody lost as to how to proceed now it has. He rubs nervously at his hair, mentally girds his loins, and then slowly, deliberately, lowers his trembling hand into his lap.

At that, Dom unleashes such a smile on Billy, such a gorgeous, devastatingly sexy smile, that he can't help himself. _Ah hell,_ Billy thinks, as he grips his prick, _imitation is the sincerest form of flattery._

Dom makes a small sound deep in his throat that momentarily erases every trace of doubt still lingering in Billy's mind. Then his eyelids flutter shut for an instant and when he opens them again, Billy nearly comes in his shorts. He tightens his grasp on his cock, closes his eyes and breathes deeply until the danger passes. 

"Billy?" Dom whispers. 

Billy opens his eyes. "Yes, Dominic?"

"Are you feeling ... _altruistic_ ... right now?" 

Billy always knew Dom was the brave one. And it's so easy, then, for him to be brave as well. He inches forward until he can reach over and thread his fingers through Dom's. He can feel the heat and hardness of Dom's cock through his shorts and it starts a fire, low in his belly. 

"You'd better fucking believe it," Billy says. And he feels rather than sees Dom's lips curve up as he surges toward him, moving out of the shade of the umbrella and into the golden spill of late afternoon sun.

* * *

When Billy's catching his breath, after, he feels as though he and Dom should really have _a talk._ They're lying naked and tangled together, limbs slick with sweat, lungs heaving, watching the sun melt into the horizon, and he's reluctant to ruin the mood but still. _Still!_ What is Dom thinking? What does this mean? Is Billy actually turning into a girl or just thinking like one? But seriously, how did this happen? Will it happen again? Maybe after dinner? Is there a Thai place nearby? He could really go for Thai. 

He wants to kiss Dom's temple. He wants to whisper all kinds of soppy things into Dom's ear. Dom's hair looks fucking stupid and Billy wants to smooth it down gently. But he doesn't do any of these things. There's all this tenderness welling up inside him and nowhere for it to go. 

He pushes himself up onto his elbow and says, "I'd no fucking idea you wanted this, Dom."

Dom mirrors Billy's pose, so they're facing each other, but Dom seems infinitely more relaxed than Billy suddenly feels. He smiles. "Really, Bill? Well, you're a bit thick."

Billy considers punching him, but Dom is still smiling at him, his widest, sunniest smile, and there's no way anyone can withstand the glory and joy of that expression. Billy certainly can't. He reaches over and smoothes his hand softly over Dom's hair and then down until he's cupping the nape of Dom's neck. He strokes the soft skin behind Dom's ear with his thumb and breathes deeply, a wave of calm washing over him. He smiles back.

"It's true. And in addition to the rather incredible girth, I'm a very decent length. Everything you need in a man, really."

"And modest! Don't forget modest," Dom laughs. 

"Never," Billy replies, "it's one of my best qualities."

Dom leans in and brushes his lips lightly from Billy's temple to the shell of his ear. "I want to say something incredibly soppy right now," he whispers.

"Yeah?" Billy asks. 

"You'd better fucking believe it," Dom replies.

And Billy does.


End file.
